Carl is Dead
by Evangeline Dixon
Summary: How would the group explain Carol's grave to her...? My first funny fic (I hope) :P Caryl fluff involved
1. Carl is Dead

"Thank you" Carol stood with Daryl watching the sun go down over the prison yard. He had stayed with her, helped her in her recovery even when everyone else had gone to investigate this strange woman who had appeared.

"What for?" Daryl muttered looking out at the sun, gripping the iron fence with his fist.

"You found me," She didn't turn her head as the words left her mouth, didn't even tilt her head towards him. It was praise enough for him without her having to add any emotion. He had found her, when he couldn't find Sophia.

"Hey," Daryl moved Carol round by gripping her forearms, putting his face inches from hers, staring deep into her blue eyes, "I will always find you. Even if you don't want me to."

Carol's features softened and as soon as Daryl said that to her, he snapped back up and they both turned back to the orange glow of the sun, casting a warm light over the prison yard.

"Whose grave is that?" Carol asked.

There was a brief moment of silence as Daryl counted the graves.

Lori.

T-Dog.

..._Oh shit._

"Urgh, I dunno," Daryl said transparently as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Carol wasn't convinced, "Who the hell?" Carol walked towards the graves with lightening speed, opening gates and slamming them shut. Making life extremely difficult for Daryl who was attempting to catch up with her.

"Carol! Carol wait up," He breathed as he skidded to a halt next to her.

"Lori," Carol breathed, taking in the L in small stones. "Theodore," She used his full name as she addressed his grave, gripping the cross as tears lined her eyes.

Daryl thought about laying a hand on her shoulder, but decided she needed to do this alone.

"Thank you," She wheezed, using her jumper to dry her eyes, grateful for his sacrifice.

Although Daryl didn't say it, he was grateful too.

She came to the final grave.

"Daryl, whose is this?" She murmured.

Daryl opened and closed his mouth, he was never good at lying.

"Daryl, it's got a_ C_ on it," She turned and crossed her arms, agitated. "You thought I wasdead didn't you!"

"No, no!" Daryl looked at her with wide eyes, he'd never seen Carol angry and he probably didn't want to. "It's-it's Carl's grave."

Carol, stepped back a tiny step, her hand on her heart.

"But-but the Cherokee Rose?" Carol looked confused. He really should have just told her the grave was hers.

"Yeah what about it?" He was in some deep shit.

"I thought, I thought it was our thing?" Carol murmured to the ground.

"Can't I put a flower on a little boys grave?!" Daryl snapped. Deep_ deep_ shit.

Carol opened her mouth as her eyes snapped from grave to man and back again.

"I should go see Rick, give him my condolences," Carol walked past Daryl and towards the prison.

Rick was with the others, and the others meant..._SHIT._

"Carol, Carol!" He grabbed the back of her jumper to stop her. "He's still, yanno, grievin' and stuff, I should go see him first," _And get that little shit out of the way_.

Carol nodded, somber.

"How could this happen, three of us," Carol asked, gutted at the news of Carl's death.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed as he pushed her back towards the graves, "Maybe you should stay here, yanno, pay your respects and stuff,"

Carol nodded her eyes never leaving the rose on the grave, she touched it gingerly with her fingertips.

"Oh and Carol?" Carol recoiled from the rose as if it was white hot and looked up, weepy, "If you run into anyone and they say something weird, just remember:_ Carl is dead_."

...

Everyone sat around for dinner, possum soup. Including Carl. Very much alive.

"Carol an' Beth comin' down anytime soon?" Daryl asked Hershel, who had just entered the room. He nodded at the man with the messy hair who was sat like a slob around the table.

"Yeah, they're just behind me Daryl," Hershel smiled, sleepily and he sat down, propping up his crutches.

_Shit_. The color drained from Daryl's face, he could hear the two women's footsteps echoing off of the halls, accompanied with their light and frivolous laughter.

_Double shit_.

Carl sat cross legged next to him, scarfing down his soup as if someone was going to take it away from him.

"Carl?" The young boy looked up to Daryl's gruff voice. "Get under the table."

"...what?" Carl's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Get under the fuckin' table," Daryl used his large hand to push on the top of Carl's head, the young child's body slid under the table with the help of Daryl kicking him under there.

"Language!" Hershel barked!

Daryl rose a finger to his lips, "Everyone, just shut up," Daryl addressed Hershel, Rick and most importantly Carl.

"Carl, you keep quiet, or I'm comin' down there and you'll be sorry if I do," Daryl rose to sit back at the table just as the women rounded the corner.

Carol gave Rick a sympathetic smile and touched his arm before sitting down with Beth. Daryl span a bowl of soup towards her and she ate graciously, she'd been without food for a while and was happy to be given something with actual flavor.

"Rick where's Carl?" Beth asked innocently. Daryl's spoon clattered to the ground and Carol's lips gave an audible smack as she opened them, spinning round to look at Hershel and Rick.

Delicately she placed an arm on Beth's shoulder, Beth turned and looked at Carol whose head was cocked to the side.

"Honey, I know it's hard to get your head around, I know." She nodded as Rick looked on, baffled. "But Carl's gone."

Rick's soup spluttered out of his mouth.

"Sorry," He apologized, "I sneezed," Carol sighed as she went back to eating her soup, Beth kept staring at the side of Carol's head and Rick exchanged looks with Hershel.

"But-" Beth began, but stopped when she saw Hershel's eyes bore into her.

"Beth," Hershel rose, "I think we should take a walk,"

Hershel took a highly flustered Beth from the room as Rick, Daryl and Carol ate in silence.

"I'm so sorry Rick," Carol admitted quietly, not taking her eyes off her soup.

"Thanks Carol, glad to have you back safe," Rick replied curtly, narrowing his eyes at Daryl who had left his soup and was flicking bits of wood from the table with his hunting life. Avoiding Rick's gaze.

"Ow," Carl exclaimed, flinching as Daryl involuntarily crushed the boys hand under his large military boot. The table rose a couple centimeters off of the ground and knocked Daryl's soup onto his lap. He jumped up yelling and cursing from the searing hot liquid that was sizzling in his lap.

Carl had better stay under that table forever.

"Oh my God!" Carol yelped, jumping up, a slight smile crossing her lips. "I'll go get you a change of pants," Carol left the room, a hand clasped over her smirking mouth.

Daryl settled back down as Carl crawled out from under the table and took off running in - luckily - the opposite direction the Carol.

"Yeah, you better run," Daryl sneered as he patted the damp crotch of his pants, he smelt like possum.

Slowly Rick sat down across from Daryl, joining his hands together in contemplation, he rose one clenched fist to his head in frustration and let out a long deep sigh before meeting Daryl's nervous eyes.

"Daryl?" Rick asked, exasperated. "Did you tell Carol that my son was dead so she wouldn't know that we thought she was dead?"

Daryl shuffled uncomfortably in his damp trousers.

"That might have been what happened."


	2. Carl is Frozen

**Short chapter, hastily written! Sorry guys but I have so much work at the moment :( please read and review!**

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"Daryl," Rick sighed. Head in hands. "You cannot pretend my son is dead."

Daryl chewed on his non-existent thumb nail.

"We made her a grave, Rick. How the hell you explain that to her?" Daryl challenged, watching as Rick raised an eyebrow.

"...We tell her we thought she was dead...?"

"We can't do that!" Daryl hissed, "She'll know we didn't look for her! She'll know I put the flower-" Daryl looked at the ground.

"What flower Daryl?" Rick smirked.

Daryl rose to his feet.

"Yer kid best stay out of my way," Daryl pointed accusingly to Rick who was leant back, chuckling. "Because he's dead."

Rick held his hands up dismissively, he knew Daryl's plan was going to backfire eventually and besides, it might be fun to see Carol beat his sorry ass.

Daryl stormed away, into his cell, in the hopes that Carol wouldn't see any 'ghosts' around. She entered his cell five minutes after he did, carrying a pair of Daryl's old, worn out jeans. She silently handed them to him, a small smile on her face as he snatched them from her.

"You want me to turn around," She smirked.

Daryl just stared until she laughed out loud and turned away from him. Allowing him to strip and change, she reached behind her, and Daryl placed the sodden jeans in her outstretched hand.

"I'll get these washed," Her eyes twinkled as she left the room.

As soon as she was gone Daryl jumped to his feet. Thoughts raced through his mind at lightening speed.

Got to find Carl. Got to find Carl. Got to find Carl. I'm hungry.

Daryl forgot about Carl as soon as his stomach made that stupid growling, rumbling noise it made when he was hungry. He sauntered towards the pantry searching for some kind of food to quell his ravenous hunger.

Two birds with one stone. Not only did Daryl find some cheese and onion crisps but a small boy in a sheriff's hat with his face in a bag of crisps of his own.

"Any reason you wanna be actin' like a Racoon?" Daryl chuckled.

"Any reason you're telling people I'm dead?" Came the muffled reply.

Daryl leaned foreward and pulled the bag off the young boys face, settling down next to him, ready for a feast that they were going to enjoy.

Suddenly, Daryl heard a voice, a light sparkling voice of joy, Carol.

"I've just got to get something for dinner," Carol laughed in reply to someone or something as she rounded the corner.

Zipping across the length of the pantry, Daryl pushed firmly on the forehead of Carl, sending him cascading onto the floor with a grunt.

"Stay the fuck down and don't fuckin' talk Carl, I swear to God," Daryl muttered as he got to his feet. "Look dead," he hissed.

Carol stumbled across the scene and gasped, her hand flew to her mouth as she stumbled backwards.

"Oh God, Oh God, Daryl," Tears sprang to Carol's eyes and Daryl rushed to her side. "You haven't moved the body?!" She sharply in took frightened breaths.

Daryl searched for an answer.

"Urgh no," Daryl stammered, "We- we keep them here now,"

"You- you keep them here...?" She asked, quietly, "Then what was the grave for...?"

"it was- it was for," Daryl racked his brain for an excuse, "It was a memorial!" Daryl said maybe a little too elated.

Carol rose an eyebrow quizzically.

"We keep the bodies in the freezer, you know, jus' in case," Daryl mumbled before grabbing Carl's ankles and dragging him to the freezer, they had cleaned it out a week ago.

"Carl I swear I'll kill you if you make a sound," He growled to the surprisingly lifeless body as he shut the metal freezer door.

You know your plans gone too far when you throw a child in a meat locker.

Carol gasped.

"Can I, Can I see T-dog? Lori?" She motioned towards the heavy chrome door.

"No!" Dayl yelled, jumping in front of her.

She flinched, hand on her chest.

"Why not?" She questioned.

"We ate them." Daryl mentally kicked himself. "We ate their bodies."

Carol stumbled backwards, looking in shock and disgust at the amount of food around her, she grasped towards the door.

"You-you- you did what?!" She breathed, slumped in the doorway.

She picked herself off and after staring at Daryl's blank expression for a matter of minutes, took of running down the halls.

"I'm gone a day and you all turn into fuckin' cannibals?" He heard her screech echo off of the walls.

"Carol!" Daryl yelled after her, abandoning Carl.

Okay, maybe this idea had gone a little far.


	3. Carl is a Ghost

**Thank you all fr reading and reviewing! Unfortunately I can't carry on this story for much longer, therefore next chapter will be the last! If you have any other idea's for chapters or 'Carl is...' then please please please PM me or leave a review! I will be forever grateful.**

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"Carol, Carol calm down we didn't eat them!" Daryl heard Rick's voice and Carol's blubbering. "No! Carol! I promise you, the thing about Carl is-"

Daryl rounded the corner, out of breath not from running, but for trying to come up with an excuse.

"Carol I was jokin' with ya!" Daryl laughed...nervously. Rick glared at him, opening his mouth to talk. "I'll clean her up," Daryl interjected. Grabbing Carol's arm and dragging her away.

"I thought y'all knew I was jokin'" He said, rubbing circles on her back as she stopped sobbing.

She stopped, glaring at him.

"How could you joke about that!" She demanded.

"I thought I'd lighten the fuckin' situation Carol!" Daryl lied through his teeth.

"You've got a dead little boy hangin' around!" Carol flapped her hands around making no particular gestures. "You told me you ate our friends!" She screeched. "What's up with that Daryl! It's just not right! It's not even funny!" Carol's eyes welled up, "What about Carl?"

"Urgh," Daryl fought for yet another lie, "Rick, yanno, likes to talk to him,"

Carol's mouth dropped.

"You know, that's why he went looking for Lori...he wants to...keep them," Rick was going to murder him.

"Jesus Daryl," She breathed, covering her mouth as her eyes widened. Slowly she shook her head, "I mean, I know he's going through some things, but that body-that body's going to...you know," She wrinkled her nose as she made a subtle hint towards decomposition.

"We can't bury him!" Daryl shouted, alert.

"Why not...?" Carol furrowed her brows as she questioned Daryl.

"We-we don't have any shovels." Yes. Another lie down.

"Why not?"

"I broke them."

"How Daryl? How did you break the shovels?"

"I was playing with them?" Daryl questioned himself as the horrendously thin lies trailed out of his mouth.

"What the hell were you playing?" Carol asked, confused with the image of Daryl Dixon playing with an shovel.

"I was playing...shovel." Shovel? What the fuck was shovel?!

"What's shovel...?"

Game over.

"Dammit woman! I don't have to answer all your fuckin' questions!" Daryl growled, flushed with a lying shade of red. Quickly he stormed out of the hall and into the main room of the prison already concocting his next plan.

...

The scream pierced the silence of the night, awaking Daryl from his restless slumber. Within a minute he was poised with his hunting knife drawn, looking around for the walkers that must have been crawling through the prison by now.

Instead he saw Carol, white as a sheet, gripping on the bars of his cell. She rested her head against them and began to cry hysterically. Quickly Daryl was at the cell, unlocking his door with sweaty palms and swinging it wide open. He caught Carol with one arm as she fell through into his cell, he collapsed the floor with her and rolled her around so he could cradle her with both arms. Determined to spot something, he leaned foreward, looking around the foyer, but no one was there.

"Hey, hey," He cooed softly to her as he absently stroked her hair.

He watched as the other ran into the foyer, weapons drawn, quickly Daryl waved them away showing them with a flick of his wrist that it was just a false alarm. Groggily they shook their heads and retreated back to their rooms.

Daryl Dixon could deal with a nightmare.

She sniffled into his shirt, holding his white wife beater in a vice like grip.

He used a coarse hand to cup the side of her face and lift it to look at him, her blue eyes wet with tears, the colour drained from her face.

"What's 'matter," He asked, as soft as a Dixon could, "What happened?"

Her bottom lip began to tremble.

"I saw, I saw," She collapsed into tears again, throwing her head into him, with a sigh he lifted it again.

"What did you see woman?" He whispered to her.

"Carl," She breathed, frozen with fear. "In his old cell, curled up a blanket, shaking."

Daryl opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him.

"Please don't think I'm crazy, I couldn't stand you thinkin' I'm crazy," She shook her head, "It was a ghost. His face was blank white and his lips were blue." She stared into space, recalling the event. "He was dead, cold and dead, and staring at me." She began to cry again.

Daryl cradled her, rocking her and stroking her hair as she sobbed herself to sleep. Daryl thought about her description. Carl being blue and pale and shaking, looking dead and cold.

Oh shit Daryl had left him in the meat locker.

Rick was going to kill him.

Carl was going to kill him.

Oh shit. Carol was going to kill him.


	4. Carl is Bill

**Enjoy this chapter! The next chapter will be the final installment of this fic so I hope you've loved it as much as I have loved writing it :) Thank you for all your kind words :) **

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"Daryl," Carl screeched unhappily, "You left me in a meat locker!"

"Yeah, I know," Daryl mumbled, "Sorry about that little guy,"

"Little guy?!" Carl stared angrily at the older man, "I'm fourteen and I've had it with your weird little plan to try and convince Carol you aren't madly in love with her!"

"Hey!" Daryl growled, pointing an accusing finger at the boy, "...you're thirteen and don't try an' tell me otherwise,"

Carl's face crumpled as he accepted what he_ thought_ was_ meant_ to be a dig.

"Listen...Carl..." Daryl slipped into Carl's cell, "I need a favor..."

Carl jumped up with lightening speed, shaking his head violently.

"No," Carl emitted, "No, no, no, no, no!"

Daryl produced a bobble hat, a hair band and a clump of mud.

Carl knew this was not going to end well.

"NO DARYL," Carl shouted, "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING,"

Daryl advanced on Carl slowly, ominously, and dangerously resembling a pedophile.

"Come one Carl, I can get ya booze," Carl slipped away,..

"No, I hate that stuff!" Carl retorted.

"What about if I find more possum? I'll give you the best bits!" Daryl pleaded as Carl feverishly shook his head, and then he realized that Dixon's do not plead.

"Hows about I don't stomp yer ass?" Daryl growled a decibel lower then his usual tone.

"Dad!" Carl yelled, oh shit.

"I'll talk to Beth for ya!" Daryl cried, that's all it took to shut Carl up.

"What'll you say?" Carl mumbled.

"Anythin' ya like," Daryl agreed.

He'd talked Merle up to hundreds of girls before and really, Merle had no redeeming qualities. At least with Carl he wouldn't have to lie through his teeth, because the last couple of days had really proved it wasn't his strongest skill.

...

"This is Bill." Daryl presented the small thirteen year old boy to Carol. His hair tied in an elastic band and shoved under a thick bobble hat, mud smeared all over his face. "Rick adopted him."

"Urgh, hi there Bill..." Carol smiled shakily, "I haven't seen you around before,"

"He don't talk," Daryl pushed Carl/Bill towards the exit to Carol's cell, watching with pride as Bill/Carl took it upon himself to leave the cell and shuffle away down the halls all in perfect silence.

"He seems...lovely..." Carol gave a small smile.

"If by lovely ya mean fuckin' creepy," Daryl mumbled, prompting a short elfish laugh from Carol.

"I can see why Rick adopted him," Carol spoke softly, suddenly serious, "He looks so similar to Carl," Her eyes glistened and Daryl resisted pulling her into a hug.

"Oh...kinda...not really...I don't see it.," Daryl stumbled through the sentence, avoiding her eyes.

"Daryl," She widened her eyes, "He looks exactly the same...but what's with all the dirt on his face, I should really clean the poor thing up,"

"Poor thing don't need cleanin' up," Daryl muttered, looking up and seeing Carol's confused face, "Rick...likes him that way..."

Fucking brilliant, he'd just made Rick sound like a crazed, child molesting, widower.

As registered on the lovely Carol's face.

Would it really be so bad? To tell Carol the whole story and inadvertently proclaim his un-denying love for her? And then have her completely reject him as she realizes just how sick and twisted his mind is in that he would: Tell her Carl was dead, shut him in a meat locker, persuade her she was insane and seeing ghosts and lastly, dress the kid up and tell her that he was a completely different person.

Merle had literally nothing on him. He was the worst kind of human being.

"Okay...So, where was he found?" Carol queried causing Daryl to think fast.

"Found him in the prison, dehydrated and locked in one of the cells, dumb shit," Daryl laughed hysterically, "Who gets locked in a cell with nothin' to defend 'emselves with?"

Oh shit.

Carol coughed subtly, looking at the ground.

Oh shit, how to fix this, how to fix this, how to fix this.

"I mean, he didn't even fight off any walkers...he just...locked himself in there...accidentally" Carol looked up and nodded with a small smile pressed to her face. She totally wasn't buying it.

"So, why was he in there?" She asked curtly, not making eye contact with him, she stopped, "Has he _always_ been in there?"

"Yes," Daryl nodded, "He has _always_ been in there," Daryl nodded repeating what she had said.

"What?!" Carol exclaimed, her eyes widening, "He's _always_ been in there?!"

Oh shit, _again_.

"Urgh, yeah, he's a fellon," Once again Carol retreated from him, "No, no," He reassured her, "He's turned good... like Merle!"

Bad move...maybe he could give her some squirrels or a really nice possum and she'd be fine with him again.

"Daryl, are you feeling okay?" Carol leant foreward and touched his cheek with the back of her hand, he felt a spark run through him.

Maybe he could just tell her, maybe everything would be okay, maybe she'd laugh, maybe...

Wait where the fuck had she gone?!

She had exited the cell, muttering something about a hidden stash of paracetamol.

Whoa, Carol was a secret drug lord.

He watched her as she walked away, swinging her beautiful body to and fro, he checked his jeans; great, no erection just yet.

He watched, no, he stared at her as she wandered away, he stared as Rick appeared in the doorway. Fuck.

"Rick," He watched as she gave that heavenly smile to Rick, "I've just met Bill, he's lovely," She nodded politely before sauntering away down the hall.

Rick stared after her, a brilliant look of confusing registering on his face, Daryl chuckled to himself, folding his tanned arms across his chest.

Rick turned and their eyes met.

Holy shit.

Rick marched up to him and they met in the middle of Carol's cell, squaring up to each other,

"Daryl I have had enough!" Rick growled accusingly, "Who the hell is Bill?"

"What makes you think I know?" Daryl growled back, his animal instinct kicking in.

Great, now he was lying to two people.

"Give it up Daryl, Carl is Bill, isn't he?" Rick went from angry to pitying in a matter of seconds. "You've dressed up my son,"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Daryl repeated.

"So, you're telling me Carol made up someone called Bill?" Rick raised an eyebrow.

Now what would be a really convincing lie to tell about Carol.

"Yeah, she's got a secret stash of LSD. I've seen her takin' 'em,"

Fucking brilliant.


	5. Carl is a Walker

**I love you all dearly but it's me and it's crack fiction. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!**

**I apologize, but not really.**

**hehe.**

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"Okay, I'm lyin'," Daryl admitted, "She ain't trippin'"

Rick exhaled deeply, agitated.

"So Bill is Carl?" Rick asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, but gimme one more day to tell her," Daryl pleaded, "I swear Rick, I'll do it, I just gotta get it right."

Rick shook his head.

"No, you're not lying to a member of the group anymore."

Daryl scoffed.

"I ain't lyin'!" Daryl laughed nervously, "I'm bendin' the truth,"

"Daryl, avoiding telling Carol you left a rose on her grave is bending the truth. Telling her that my son is head is flat out lying."

"What flower?" Daryl growled, avoiding Rick's tired gaze.

"For fucks sake Daryl, you've got an hour."

And with permission from Rick Daryl took off through the winding halls of the search for Carl/Bill. Desperate to explain the other phases of his plan. Fuck Rick, there was no way he was admitting his compulsive lying to her, to Carol, he was never going to break that trust. That unfortunate trust he had completely obliterated into a tiny million, itty bitty pieces that he was sticking together with shitty tape made completely of heinous lies...but apart from that he would never want to break that trust.

He discovered Carl sat in the infirmary, bandaging a wound that had probably inflicted over the many times he had pushed him to the ground and forced him to play dead.

"Carl?" Daryl hissed, causing the boy to look up but not speak, "It's fine there's no one with me, you can stop being Bill,"

"Hi Daryl," Carl sighed, a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Listen, I'm gonna tell 'er, really I am, I jus' gotta think of a way how," Daryl promised.

Slowly Carl turned his head, scowling at the older man.

"Daryl, just tell her now," Carl groaned, throwing his head backwards in annoyance.

"Now...?" Carl looked impishly towards the floor, a grin on his face. "what d'ya mean now?"

Daryl caught on too late, he could recognise the tip-tap of Carol's shoes on the stone floor any day. Oh shit. That little twat had planned it.

"Carl, get on the floor and act fuckin' dead," Daryl rose to his feet, staring down the boy in the sheriff hat.

"No," Carl snickered. Perfect. Now the kid grows a fucking back bone.

"Carl," Daryl gave a warning growl but still Carl didn't oblige. Instead he climbed to his feet, glaring hard as Daryl advanced. "Carl," Daryl repeated.

"Fuck you Daryl," Carl smirked.

And that's about the point when Daryl punched Carl Grimes in the face.

...

Great. He had just knocked out thirteen year old Carl, who was now lying on the ground having been punched by a forty year old man.

Twenty seconds later, Carol rounded the corner, faltering when she saw Carls 'dead' body.

"What's he doing here?" She breathed.

Here we go again.

"Rick was...Rick was talkin' to him..." He was surprised to see that Carol didn't even look confused anymore. "He likes to do that sometimes now...loneliness and shit."

Slowly, Carl's fingers began to twitch, in the midst of their conversation Carl began to regain consciousness...the boot of his foot kicked delicately and his eyelashes flittered angelically, he began to stir from his catatonic state.

Carol smiled beautifully at something Daryl had said, her smile lighting up the dark and dank room as Daryl gesticulated towards Carl's prone body.

Bad move.

As Carol caught sight of the spasming corpse that she believe used to be Carl she let out a horrifying g shriek. She pulled her hand gun from her side and fired two shots into Carl's head. Blood and matter sprayed across the floor and wall Carol slumped down, panting hard, her hands gripped around the handle, knuckles turning white.

"Did no one...?!" Carol asked, turned to face Daryl, involuntarily pointing the gun at Daryl.

Daryl didn't even flinch, he just stared, jaw slack and eyes wide and staring at the now, very, very, dead corpse of Carl. Slowly he shook his head from side to side. Taking in the blood oozing from the crater blown out of his head.

"I guess everyone thought someone else had..." He wheezed, completely breathless.

Frantically Daryl watched as Rick burst through the door, skidding to a halt as he took in the horrendous situation at hand. Carl with the gun. Daryl with the shame. Carl with the chunk of his head missing.

"For fucks sake Daryl."


	6. Carl Really is Dead

**Hey everyone, sorry it's been so long! This is the epilogue to Carl is Dead. I'm afraid there is NO way to close this story without it being completely OOC so sorry about that! Love you all and thank you for the reviews!**

"Why didn't you just tell me the truth?" Carol's voice cracked.

The pair stood looking at a make shift funeral. Lori's grave, T-Dog's grave, Carl's grave, Carol's grave. And a strangely empty chasm between them.

Daryl looked at her beautiful, sad eyes. She stared at the grave.

The grave with the C.

Correction. The _second _grave with the C.

Daryl didn't reply, instead he kicked a clod of dirt into the air, watching as the tiny pieces of muck exploded and drifted like stardust down the ground ground again, wincing as a piece caught Rick in his open eye.

"Maybe we should move further back..." Daryl muttered, cautiously taking small steps back towards the prison.

Daryl was not without punishment. After the funeral Daryl would spend three nights clearing out the tombs and if, _if_, he survived would then have to live out the rest of his days in jail...literally.

Unsuprisingly, Daryl was not up for that. It was all in the name of love after all wasn't it? Carol was less then pleased to discover she had murdered Rick's child, a simple 'whoops' just wasn't going to cover it this time. She vowed to make it right with him, hell, she would carry another child if she had to.

Who was she kidding, he has Judith, why can't the man just be fucking happy?!

She sensed her and Daryl had sent Rick even more off the rails...she didn't know what it was about him, she just _sensed _it.

"And then Mary road the donkey into Bethlehem The inn had room but because Mary was a FUCKING SLUT she slept with the animals; in the morning that weird king...king henry or whatever...came to the stable TO KILL THEIR FUCKING CHILD but he didn't and that is the FUCKING CHRISTMAS STORY." Rick had finished his funeral speech.

"Rick..." Maggie said softly, "No one asked for the Christmas story..."

Rick looked blankly ahead smiling and rocking slightly.

Carol didn't know what it was that made her think he was crazy, she just _sensed _it.

"We better go," Maggie murmered as her, Glen, Hershel, Beth and the rest of the gang began to amble inside.

"Come on," Daryl nudged Carol's arm, "We should go too,"

But Carol was looking at something. Something in the distance.

"Daryl?" She asked, her eyes not moving from their fixed spot.

"Yea'?" Daryl craned his neck to attempt to see what she was looking at.

"Does that mean that you put a flower on my grave?" She turned to face him.

Daryl froze. His palms were sweating.

Do. Not. Lie.

"Woman. Let's jus' get inside," He growled, turning away and waiting for her to follow.

"I'm just gonna talk to Rick, say I'm sorry again."

Daryl didn't need to be asked twice, he shrugged and walked inside.

Steadily, Carol approached the rocking figure of Rick. She laid a hand on his shoulder and they stared down at the mound of dirt marked by a small cross.

"Well, at least we'll always know where he is." She sighed.

Rick turned abruptly towards her, eyes boreing down.

"What do you mean?" he seethed.

Carol did not get the hint.

"Well, he was never in the fucking house." She anxiously laughed.

And then, Rick began to laugh too.

And the two of them laughed together.

And then Rick pushed her into the empty grave amongst the other three, grabbed a shovel and began to fill the chasm in.

_**The End**_


	7. The Rules of Shovel

**You requested the rules of shovel, so here they are! Written especially from Daryl's perspective and left on Carols pillow.**

* * *

Carol, I'm gon' teach you how to play a game my Daddy used to play with us when he was drunk... So a lot... Which is why I'm so damn good at it.

1. Grab ya'self a shovel

2. Now, uh, you go and grab ya'self another shovel.

4. So now ya got two shovels.

5. ...Now go get another shovel.

6. Wait...where the fuck did number three go?!

7. Son of a bitch...

8. You can play shovel by yourself or with friends...but I don't have any friends so I play alone.

11. It's a pretty tough game once you get into it.

12. Dangerous.

13. Not for ladies (Carol.)

14. Uh...

13. So ya got ya three shovels right...?

16. So now you gotta throw all three at once...

17. And then uh...catch 'em.

18. and then...once you've caught 'em...

19. You uh...

20. You...

21. You go hit rocks 'til you break the shovel.

22. Repeat with all shovels.

The numbers might be a bit off...but that's how ya play shovel...so...if ya wan' a game sometime...you come find me...and we'll play...shovel...if ya can find some more shovels...'cause...I don't know if ya remember...but I broke the others...playin'...playin' shovel...so yeah.


End file.
